


No Man Shall Break Asunder

by Dameceles



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Reunion Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 09:09:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11010345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dameceles/pseuds/Dameceles
Summary: After weeks of waiting, locked in the dungeons with only the guards’ crass insinuations to keep her company, then the too-quick morning spent dodging arrows and the grasping claws of Terrors— seeing Clive’s face again lifted Mathilda's spirit and filled her with a giddy recklessness.





	No Man Shall Break Asunder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aurumite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurumite/gifts).



> Aurumite demanded Clive/Mathilda reunion smut, dunno if this was desperate enough. Spoilers for Act II of Alm's route in SoV, but mostly just smoopy sex.

They were on the farthest corner on a balcony furthest from the dungeons. The fortress still buzzed with activity, yet every Deliverance soldier was somewhere more important than a small terrace overlooking a courtyard. Despite it being moderately past midday, the corner was almost dark, as the great fortress tower cast just as great shadows. In a corner against the wall and the balustrade they were almost alone. It was almost quiet. Almost safe.

Safe. That had been the word Clive kept repeating once Alm and those other boys had left them together, as he’d led her by the hand out of the dungeons and into this open air. It seemed he almost disbelieved it to be true, shaken by how close Desaix’s ordered execution had been carried out.

Mathilda felt the opposite, like her feet had sprouted wings and she was ready to leap to the heavens. After weeks of waiting, locked in the dungeons with only the guards’ crass insinuations to keep her company, then the too-quick morning spent dodging arrows and the grasping claws of Terrors— seeing her beloved’s face again lifted her spirit beyond any doubt and worry. Rejoining the cause with the promise to fight on the battlefield once more, had also filled her with a giddy recklessness that’d led their current situation.

“C… Couple with you out here?” Clive’s eyes flashed as he glanced to the balcony doorway. “In the open?”

From his tone it sounded like Clive found the idea was both stirring and embarrassing, to be so vulnerable together under the open sky where any could catch them. In her youth Mathilda had heard the servant’s gossip when they’d stumbled upon similar amorous situations on her own family’s estate. The way Clive kept tracing his hands up and down the sides of her body, as if to reassure himself she wasn’t about to disappear into thin air, had planted the kernel of a plan in Mathilda’s head.

Executing the next step, she leaned in and chastely kissed the mole at the corner his mouth. "We’re alone together after so long parted. My sweet, I want to… touch you."

Mathilda’s hand came to rest on his still-armored chest and she pushed him, lightly enough that he could resist should he choose. However, Clive allowed it. He began to step backwards and went further into the shadows, until he could move no more with his back against the fortress wall. His hands had done little more than grip the maille at her waist, attention split between herself and that damned doorway. So she took a wide stance as her right hand firmly gripped the gambeson’s collar at the base of his throat, then asked, “Are you expecting someone to come out here and see?”

She felt his throat bob as he swallowed before his hands fell to her hips and he pulled her even closer, until her body pressed against him in full. He leaned in and gently butted his forehead against hers. Mathilda felt the sweat on his brow, just as some salted her own, and it was just another reminded that they’d both survived and were now here— with each other.

Clive’s eyes flashed again as he searched her face, and evidently found something. Gently, he said, “Whatever you desire of me, my love, I freely give.”

His words made her smile. Mathilda raised her head to look Clive in the eye, determined to allay her beloved’s fears. She spun them both and pressed herself against the wall at the corner of the terrace's railing, his broad back was now to the fortress doorway and everyone in inside. "Everyone’s too busy to seek us here. Though if-" She paused, took his hand and tucked it under her leg beneath her tunic and kept the other on her covered hip. "If any happen to look... How will they see, if you lift me in your arms like this?"

A high color was entering into Clive’s fair face, yet his expression abruptly became one of mischief. He hoisted her and stepped forward until he supported her weight with a knee between her thighs. Although they were similar in height, the way he’d lifted kept her suspended, even when her free leg stretched trying to find solid footing.

She was wedged between him and the stone of the wall, his form blocked almost all views of her— nosy onlookers would have to come far too close to figure them out.

Mathilda quickly gave up trying to reach the floor with her toes. Instead one leg folded so she could plant a foot onto the flat balustrade, the other wrapped over his waist. It gave her enough control to grind down against his leg. When her gaze met his again, she simply nodded.

Her fisted hands in the lapels of his coat ensured balance, and Mathilda goaded him with whispers to touch her freely. Clive smoothed his hand over her knee and up the length of her leg, slowly slid the lower half of her tunic up further as he did so. Despite the threat of being caught hanging over their heads and his earlier hesitation, it seemed he was still as shameless as it came to her as she was with him. Clive bunched the studded tunic up about her waist, found the band of her hose, and tugged it down. Mathilda gasped at his touch against the bare, sensitive flesh of her inner thighs.

His fingers trailed higher and higher, until only the thin fabric of her smallclothes maintained her modesty and they were easily pushed aside. He softly groaned as he finally touched her wet folds, spread her open with his fingers. Mathilda moaned, reached up to tangle her hands in the silken strands of his wheat-blond hair and drew Clive closer as he pressed his fingertips against her core.

"Don’t keep your Valkyrie waiting," she breathed into his ear. Like a good soldier he obeyed her command and finally he pushed his digits inside.

Clive’s fingers buried to the knuckle, each pump of his hand accompanied by his breathy groans. Mathilda attempted to keep quiet, gritting her teeth to stifle moans and gasps; the possibility of noises drawing attention and them being caught on her mind. Yet the thought quickly faded as Clive’s his thumb began to circle over the nub at her apex with the lightest of touches, just the way she liked it. The tension of building climax drew Mathilda's body tight, buoyed her higher— but it all paled in comparison to the need for Clive to come apart alongside her.

She spoke the thought aloud, "I need you." She said again, "Clive, I need you!"

He sealed her mouth with his, their teeth clicked together in the hurry. When Clive drew back enough to break the kiss, she made a noise of protest. But quieted as he said, “No, Mathilda, it is I who need you.”

It was not a plea, this time, but a promise, and she knew that he meant it.

Mathilda felt one of his arms curl along her back when she released her hold upon his hair. Her hands dipped low, hoisted up his gambeson, unlaced his breeches, and freed his cock. A sharp inhale hissed through Clive’s teeth as she wrapped her fingers about his hard shaft. He retaliated by withdrawing his fingers yet applying enough pressure with his thumb to make her hips buck.

Once their bodies were aligned Clive rocked into her, and Mathilda moaned aloud and in full.

"Mathilda, my love, my champion," he whispered but she ate up the rest of his words, closing the space between them and pulling their mouths together again.

She had the leverage to cant her hips as counterpart to his rhythm. It was like she’d been enveloped by his body even while fully dressed, as if every part of him touched her. For a moment the busy day fell silent and there was nothing but Clive, his shuddering breaths, his pleased exultations. The sight, sound, and feel of her beloved writhing with her left her breathless, the warm solidity of his strong frame supporting hers intoxicating.

He paused for just a moment and caught her gaze, eyes dark with how the deep blue was only a thin ring around dilated pupils. Clive drove her wild when his eyes were like this— dreamy, heavy-lidded, a look he shared only with her. That thought leapt through her mind and had Mathilda soaring.

Her core gushed and clenched upon him as she reached her peak, and he released a bitten-off cry as he reached his own soon after. Mathilda arched her back so dramatically she almost lost balance, but her beloved gathered her close with an arm already around her and brought up his other to steady them both against the cool stone of the wall. She was slumped against him recovering from climax; Clive pressed a kiss to her forehead and then her cheek and then the corner of her mouth.

As Mathilda’s wits returned to her she thought of Fernand’s muttered words. _If you were by my side._ A regret? A threat? Either way, she couldn’t picture herself beside any man than the one she was with now.

The wonderful man cleaned them both off with a handkerchief, and then tenderly, almost reverently adjusting her hose and smoothing her tunic down. After he fixed his own clothing Clive picked Mathilda up bodily, sat against the railing, and placed her on his lap. All the lines of her body were relaxed with satisfaction. She leaned back against his solid warmth with a dozy smile and then turned her head to press soft, feathery kisses up his jaw onto his chin.

She felt a laugh rumble in his chest before Clive asked, “Hm…? Has the touching left my lady unsatisfied?”

“Hardly! It’s simply that I have many weeks to catch up upon where you are concerned.” She scoffed, then kissed his mole again.

Glancing over to the balcony doorway he asked, "Do you think anyone saw?"

"If they did, you made sure it was only a view of your broad shoulders and tight backside." Mathilda laughed, girlishly. Her laughter brightened at Clive’s expression of mock outrage. They were both filthy from battle and now better things, but most importantly they were together once more.


End file.
